


Greater Is the Art of Ending

by noveltea



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: fandom_stocking, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noveltea/pseuds/noveltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows it takes a while for Earth to finally feel like home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greater Is the Art of Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 fandom_stocking fest, for misssimm

Sam knows it takes a while for Earth to finally feel like home again.

After his exile from Kelowna ended, as much as Jonas had loved Earth and all it offered, he’d been happy to return to his birthplace. No one begrudged him that; everyone wanted to feel like they belonged and she knew it had taken Jonas longer than most to feel like he’d earned his place amongst them.

Which was completely ridiculous. Despite O’Neill’s comments to the contrary, Jonas had proved his worth over and over again.

Despite the loss of his planet, the loss of Kianna and everyone he’d ever known to the destructive force of the Ori, he hadn’t stopped fighting; hadn’t stopped looking for ways to bring about the downfall of the race that had destroyed his own.

She found that commendable. It was all too easy to give up, to stop fighting and accept things for what they were: dire. She knew; she’d been on the brink of those same thoughts time and again and she knew the inner strength someone needed to pull back from the edge.

She knows it takes a while for the nightmares to stop.

She offered him the spare bedroom in her apartment, a peace offering of comfort. At night she hears him wandering quietly around the kitchen, flicking endlessly through channels and never quite settling on one to watch. He’s read all the books on her shelf – even the ones that she’s never gotten around to reading.

His endless smile has gone, replaced with a somber, sadder smile that never quite reaches his eyes. The determination there remains.

He drinks in all the information that have on the Ori, and has sketchbooks littering his desk on base and on her kitchen table filled with notes and diagrams and ideas. He never offers to share them, and she doesn’t ask.

She knew he’d talk when he was ready.

When he does it’s a rainy Saturday afternoon and they’ve been sent home after a week of exhausting missions and firefights and debriefings and tests. She makes tea and collapses onto the couch next to him, and he doesn’t flinch or move away.

After he’d breached her walls, years ago, they’d settled into a comfortable familiarity, the same as she had with Daniel or the Colonel or Teal’c, but different at the same time. There were no expectations or boundaries.

No one wanted to be alone.

She listens and understands.

All the while the rain falls outside and somewhere their enemy is planning an attack.

She knows they can’t worry about it constantly; it’ll drive them all mad.

So they sit in silence.

Waiting for an answer.


End file.
